


The Wolf and The Emerald Knight

by RobinGFellow



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Also I take bits of Dalish lore and just RUN with it, Drama, Eventual Romance, I mean it's a Solas romance fic of course it's a slow burn that ends in tragedy, Multi, Nobinary Lavellan, Nonbinary Character, Not A Fix-It, Other, Slow Burn, Wolf Symbolism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:21:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28123773
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinGFellow/pseuds/RobinGFellow
Summary: This is the story of Pucka Lavellan, warrior of Clan Lavellan, who gets pulled into a future bigger than they could have expected and a romance they could never have predicted.Luckily, they've got friends.
Relationships: Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age), Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age), Nonbinary Lavellan/Solas
Kudos: 2





	The Wolf and The Emerald Knight

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I've had rough drafts of the first couple chapters sitting around for awhile, and decided I would finally start polishing and posting considering I keep going back to it even after a year. Also as I have a passion for celtic lore and myth, don't trust the Dalish takes you see here as 100% canon because I'm basically taking a couple of the bones we get and borrowing most the rest of the skeleton from Jstor articles regarding various celtic cultures and running with it. Also, Dalish trans culture headcanons ahoy.
> 
> Pucka has stuck with me as my favorite Inquisitor and the first one I've completed the game on, despite being the tenth I've made, so it's been fun to flesh them out here. 
> 
> This chapter is pretty much all background, for most the major storyline relevant points in their lives until before the Blight begins. Next chapter starts with the Conclave exploding and the game proper- the Blight years to pre-conclave may be glanced at in flashbacks as relevant. So don't worry- it's not twenty chapters of just backstory.

::9:09 Dragon::

Pucka was an odd name, even for a Dalish elf. But in Clan Lavellan, things worked a bit differently. Signs would be read, offerings given, and the naming was a way to help guide the young one on their path. A bit of luck, or wisdom, or something to look out for. Sometimes some prophecy to go along with it.

"They are going to have to learn to take on many forms," Keeper Deshanna said while she chewed on her pipe. "Yet never lose the truth of their spirit. They willl have to be strong, and be willing to engage in some mischief, even if this one is goin' to be a serious child." A finger poked between the brows of the babe in question, causing them to scrunch together. "A large future looms ahead... The power to bring destruction or good fortune... Yes, Pucka I think it is."

"But keeper," Pucka's father Belaine paused, his brown eyes large as he looked back and forth between Deshanna and his wife. "That is the name of a goat."

"Not a goat!" The keeper said, snorting. "A spirit who sometimes appeared as one. Get it right."

"Even so-"

"Are you debating my wisdom? I was the previous keeper's First for ten years before I took over, I know how to read the signs."

At this point, Pucka's mother, Seaha, stepped in, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her tanned ear as her husband bounced the baby with increasing agitation. "Honored keeper, we mean no disrespect. But wasn't the Pucka more a figure in children's tales? It's never really been connected to the gods, or any traditions... if I remember correctly. If you say our child must take on so many things-"

"Oh, is that the problem?" The keeper waved her hand. "Well, I can give you the older texts to read up on. Most of the tales of the Pucka are a bit odd and most Keepers don't quite know where they fit, but there is a story that has an ongoing battle between Fen'harel and one that resulted in the Pucka losing it's mountain to the wolf."

The parents stared at Keeper Deshanna in dismay. They knew she was always eccentric, but the couple wondered if maybe since the old keeper's passing last winter if it hadn't gotten a bit worse. 

"Oh trust me! The key is that the Pucka was playing a long game- there is too much missing for us to figure out how, but it was one of the figures that wasn't a god or a forgotten one who managed to get one up on the wolf himself, in the end. And your kid is gonna need that kind of smarts, stubbornness, and luck. Plus, the name means 'spirit' in the old tongue! Isn't that wonderful?"

Deshanna then wished them luck as she ushered the couple out the tent flap, watching the new parents wander out to their own tent before finally releasing a whooshing sigh. She walked over and sank down by the fire, staring into the flames for a long moment before snorting. "Will need some luck indeed..." She blew out a smoke ring from her pipe. "It was about the only name I could find that crams enough power into it, without being obvious. Can't be too obvious now, can we?" She muttered briefly, glaring at the tent around her. "Not that I KNOW why you lot are so insistent on it being a creators damned riddle, but what do I know? I'm just reading the signs." She ran a hand down her face. "Poor kid."

::9:15 Dragon::

Despite the odd name, Pucka grew up like any other Dalish child. Belaine and Seaha embraced their child and were relieved at how stoic, dutiful, and responsible their little Pucka was. When Pucka's two younger siblings were born, a small girl-child when Pucka was four, Aoife, and a small boy a year later, Adeen, Pucka took their role as a older sibling very seriously. Which, to be fair, is how they seeemed to approach everything. 

"Mamae." Pucka said, frowning at a strand of dark dark brown hair that kept falling in their eyes. Seaha smiled at this, covering her lips with her hand. Pucka had insisted quite strongly they needed to learn how to tie their own hair back. She was sure they would get better at it. "Tell a story of the Emerald Knights again."

She let out a hum as she bounced little Adeen on her knee. "Oh, which one Da'len?"

Pucka frowned, deep in thought, before the six year old cautiously stated "Nomaris, and how he tamed his wolf companion."

Seaha let out a thoughtful hum. She had been told that every free minute her little knight had, they would run off and hang around the Fen'haral statues at the edge of camp, talking to them as if they were a wolf companion and themself a knight about to defend the Dales. The keeper had tried to explain the statue was for Fen'harel, who guarded the camp, but her little one would just frown and whisper 'No, his name is Agni' (or whatever the name of that statue was to Pucka), before firmly stomping off and making a flower wreath as a collar for it. As this was the one account of ill behavior Pucka took part in, Seaha was absoluely fine with this bit of childish imagination and stubborness, and counted herself lucky now that Aoife was reaching the terrible twos. "You like the stories about wolves, yes?"

Pucka gave a solemn nod. 

"Why is that?"

There was a frown, some consideration. "Because the Emerald Knights fought with them. And we don't... we don't have them anymore. I want one, a companion." They said the last word fumbling, but with concentration. 

And oh, Seaha thought, there it was. Pucka was always so serious, and as such had trouble getting along with the other children. It was a worry that her child was lonely, and now it was confirmed. 

"How about instead, I tell you the story of how Nomaris and his wolf fought alongside Mathalin and his, how about that?"

Pucka's eyes lit up. "Yes, that's good."

"Alright then. Once, many years since past..."

::9:19 Dragon::

"Hello."

Gwynllian blinked his round sky blue eyes, as he looked down from where he was curled up in the tree. Gwynllian was not having a good day. Months ago, his clan had been attacked by bandit shems, and many had died and splintered off. His mother, who had originally been part of Clan Lavellan before she had married his father, had sheperded her family to safety. 

They had arrived a couple days ago. After resting and eating, Gwynllian had heard some of the kids laughing at how big his ears were, and had run off and climbed up the tree. It seemed a good idea at the time, and even though he had heard his new Clan looking for him, he was too embarrassed to climb down yet. (And a part of him wanted HIS clan to find him. Their Keeper had been a grandfatherly man who smelled like the honey candies he made for the children, with worn wrinkles around his eyes. His mamae wouldn't tell him what had happened to him.)

But down below was a child of Clan Lavellan. He thinks he remembered seeing them around, doing chores. Their dark brown, almost black hair was messily hanging in their face, tied into a low ponytail at the base of their neck, tanned skin with brown eyes fixed up on him. "Hello," Gwynllian finally decided to reply. "Are you a girl or boy?" It had been been bothering him. He didn't like not knowing how to address someone, and normally girls wore dresses and certain braids in their hair, and boys wore pants and different kids of braids. There were no braids, and the kid was wearing pants. Of course there could be different ways here, many clans did things differently, but...

The other kid wrinkled their nose. "My name is Pucka." They chided, "I'm yn y canol." 

Gwynllian blinked. "Oh! Like the Keeper Denith'la from the stories? They were cool." 

"Yes. But I'm Pucka." 

"Ok." Both paused and regarded each other. Finally, Pucka spoke again. 

"Everyone is trying to find you. You need to come down."

"I don't want to, not yet." Gwynllian pouted, curling up back on his branch. Maybe he could tell them? Would Pucka make fun too? "The oher kids said my ears were too big." 

"That's stupid." Pucka said. "They might be big, but that isn't bad. I bet you can hear a lot." 

Gwynllian blushed. "I can." He peered down. "My name is Gwynllian, by the way."

"Gwynllian." Pucka nodded. "You really do need to come down, it's going to get dark soon and you're past the wolves." 

"You can call me Gwyn." Pucka seemed alright. He decided he liked them. "Um..." He looked down. "This is higher then I've climbed before..." 

Pucka wrinkled their nose at him again, judgement written on their features, before they sighed. "Ok then. I'll be here to catch you in case you fall." 

"Thank you!"

::9:21-9:24 Dragon::

Pucka and Gwyn were near inseparable since then, a boon that Seaha was thankful for. From 10 on they learned to hunt, to fight, and to be proud Dalish elves together. They learned to grow up in the ways of the people. 

Pucka grew taller, but stopped at what they considered a reasonable height, and from there started gaining muscle from training. Meanwhile, Gwynllian shot up like a weed and lost all his baby fat fairly quickly. He went through an incredibly gangly phase, much to most of the other teenager's amusement, but Pucka didn't care.

Seaha wondered if her child and Gwyn would make promises to one another, but there never seemed to be any interest outside of friendship. There were many nights Pucka comforted Gwyn on his latest heartbreak, and once where she had nearly walked in to Pucka silently crying with Gwyn silently pressed up against their side. 

Most the other clan children were now friendly to the two, bonds of learning to hunt and fight and heal developing an appreciation and respect for the other's skills. But Seaha was just happy that the days of hanging around Fen'harel statues were over, and Pucka had found a true companion to fight alongside. 

::9:25 Dragon::

Belaine's eyebrows raised when Pucka came storming into the tent, the flap jerking as they slammed their shield by the entryway. 

"Everything right, Da'len?" 

"The Keeper is insane." Pucka snapped, brown eyes stormy with fury. 

"What else is new." Belaine said with humor. "Tell me the details." 

Pucka took a deep breath, setting down their axe with more care. "The Keeper has declared that new city elf, ' _Sindri_ ', as her First." 

"Ah." His lips twitched. "You do realize Aoife is still too young to take on the role." 

"She would've been ready in another couple of years." Pucka snapped. 

Belaine sighed, shaking his head. "It is alright, Da'len. We do not have many mages, and Aoife is still finding her way. I do not think she would've made a good keeper. You are a tree planted, she is a summer breeze. Keepers must have deep roots." Pucka was still frowning, but their shoulders were slowly relaxing. "I am sure she is grateful to have such a defender in her older sibling." 

Pucka let out a breath before nodding. "I still don't like it. To give the role to one who didn't grow up Dalish. You say one must have deep roots- but this elf has a dwarven name, and does not know our ways. And she'll be our keeper?"

"I would give her a chance. It takes a lot of bravery for a city elf to make their way across the land by themselves, to throw themselves at our mercy." He ran his hand over the top of Pucka's head, smoothing the hair a bit. "No come help me set up for dinner."

\----

"So, you don't like me."

Pucka's jaw tensed, teeth grinding. "Be quite. We are _hunting_."

"We have time before anything shows up." Sindri said, leaning back and landing on some particularly loud leaves. Pucka felt their teeth grind further. "So tell me, what about me infuriates you so much? My mysterious Tevinter origins? The fact I am keeping my-" here Sindri let out a little gasp, eyes wide as she pantomimed clutching at her chest in shock. " _dwarvish_ name?" She smirked. "Or is it that I dared to steal the First spot you wanted for your precious little sister?"

Pucka's head snapped over to meet Sindri's sly lavender eyes. 

Pucka could grudgingly admit that Sindri was a striking elf. Her hair was nearly blood red, a hint of copper adding a shine to it. Her light brown skin made her unusual eyes stand out all the more, and her lips plump and smirking. Already half of those in Pucka's age range were tripping over themselves to woo the the new first. 

There was a moment of silence while they regarded each other. Pucka was rarely jealous, but there was something in them that looked at this elf from the city who had regard from their peers without trying, while Pucka was... respected, yes, but... plain. Steady and stable but not really of note to anyone, whether in appearance or deed. And yet this _almost-shem_ just breezed in. 

"All of it." Pucka snapped.

"Really? Well. That's stupid."

"What?" 

"They are all apart of the same thing, sure, but I'm no longer an outsider. I'm going to get my vallaslin alongside you and Gwyn, just watch."

Pucka was lost at the audacity. "The vallasin is a sacred right of passage, you need to learn to hunt-"

"And you will teach me."

_"What?"_

Sindri narrowed her eyes at Pucka. "You want my mysterious origins? Here. I was born in Tevinter. I was sold to dwarven merchants. I was lucky that my real mom had lost a child my age and decided to adopt me and replaced the bill of sale for adoption papers. I was raised with merchants being taught how to read people, and what makes a good bet." Sindri took a breath while Pucka felt a knot twist in their gut. 

"But I couldn't be happy, because I demand more than Tevinter, and so with my mom's blessing she helped me pack and let me leave to find a Dalish Clan. Yours is the third I tried to join, and the first to accept me." There was a pause, her eyes fierce as they stared Pucka down. Pucka felt a tightness in their throat. Sindri tilted her head to the side, not breaking her stare. "You and Gwyn are the best hunters in the clan. Oh, others might perform better feats to brag about, but consistently you and Gwyn bring back the cleanest kills, always a pick of the weakest of the herds or most dangerous to us, and whenever you two hunt for food you have the highest success rate."

Pucka's stared at the shift in topic. A small part of them felt a bloom of warmth at the recognition. Someone outside the elders and their parents noticed. _Oh_. Sindri continued. 

"And where you go, Gwyn follows. I could have asked Gwyn, and if it was just him he would've agreed because he's too cautious about offending people and a bit of a pushover. But you don't like me, and for you he would not teach me even if I asked. So, you will teach me."

"And why would I do that?" Pucka asked.

"Because your name." Sindri said, smug. Pucka blinked. 

"What?"

"I asked the keeper about it. You are destined for great things- but specifically you need to learn to what I know. Shape-shifting? Subterfuge? Both you are terrible at. I can help you."

Pucka rarely thought of their name. The naming conversation between their parents and the keeper had become a bit of humorous family history, and when Pucka was a kid, sure, it had fed their obsession with the Emerald Knights because they were the best picture of greatness that Pucka could imagine. 

But this was an uncomfortable reminder. The Keeper pulled the names from what the spirits of the clan told her. Some others already had their names proven true. 

"We don't know what that... 'large future' will be. It may never happen." Pucka said. "I would never leave the clan." This was more firm, sharp. 

Sindri rolled her eyes. "You may not have a choice. If it was to save them, to protect them, don't tell me you wouldn't pack and walk out to do it at a moment's notice." There was a beat of silence, point made, before Sindri continued. "And I doubt you'll need to learn to blend and adapt among other Dalish, of all things."

"You seem so sure I will... what? Have this grand future? Most of what the keeper said is about what I would need to do. Not that I would be great." 

"Well the ill regard you have of me is very one sided." Sindri rolled her eyes, and tucked a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid back into it. "And I want to be great. So, I should hang around those who are most likely to be so. And if you have to do all those things, and do them, well. All it takes is a story in the right ears and you'll become great regardless."

Not knowing what to do with the first part, but feeling as if their entire perspective of the world, future, and the elf beside them was shifting, Pucka made one last shot. "So it's a selfish wish then? To want to be great?"

"Isn't everything?" Sindri shrugged. "The want to protect those you love is also selfish- you prioritize them based on their importance to you against other people. Selfishness can be used, like anything else, as a virtue and a folly."

Silence fell over the clearing. Pucka watched the sun rise a bit farther along, thoughts settling down and sorting. Finally, a concession. Pucka wanted to try to understand this elf, at least a bit more.

"Why did you keep the name?"

Sindri glanced over. "It means 'Spark', or 'Sparkling'. It was the name of one of the Paragons of the Dwarves, a great smith who crafted magical weapons and items that helped the greatest of kings and queeens." She paused, calculation in her eyes before something shifted, a note of vulnerability appearing. "It was the first time someone called me something that meant anything, and to give an adopted slave kid such a name..." 

Pucka breathed in, and for a moment tried to imagine having been sold into slavery, to have been called nothing until someone saw something worthy in you, and to name you such a way. As a child Pucka had heard the stories of the elves fighting for their freedom, of fighting against being forced into slavery by the humans yet again. "We are the last of the Elvhenan, and never again shall we submit..." Pucka breathed out, barely a whisper. 

"I'm sorry? I didn't catch that."

"Nothing." Pucka shook their head. Never again, Pucka thought. And yet many still were. They looked down at their hand gripping their bow, knuckles pale.

"And besides," Sindri breezed, "I did get granted an elven name by the keeper. Eventually I'll go by it, but for now it's mine, and it means much the same anyway."

"Oh."

More silence. The sun crawled higher, dawn setting in, and slowly a Halla appeared and walked towards the stream. Pucka made a decision. They shifted closer to Sindri, their voice dropping. "You will want to take the shot from here, I'll direct you. But don't shoot until I tell you, I'll prepare my own bow just in case."

Sindri wasn't entirely successful in suppressing her smirk, but Pucka would let it pass. They had many years to test the new first, after all. 

::9:26 Dragon::

Keeper Deshanna smoked on her pipe, her wild frizzy hair tied with great prejudice into a bun sitting at the nape of her neck. She stared down at the three elves in front of her. "Explain."

Really, as the three elven youths looked at each other, Deshanna wondered if this was all her fault for encouraging their camaraderie. When Sindri came sauntering back a year ago from a hunt, as proud of herself as a fox who'd managed to corner a wolf, she had been happy enough that the outgoing and charismatic Sindri had managed to win over one of the toughest nuts of the younger crowd. 

She really should've foreseen this. Of course between Sindri being too clever by half, Pucka being too competent by a Dalish mile (longer and harder to ride than a shem one, of course), and Gwyn being easily lead by either with a large set of random skills that still boggled her on how awkward he could be despite them, well. They were bound to get in trouble. 

She had depended too much on Pucka's common sense and leadership curving Sindri's influence. She had obviously missed the fact that Pucka was at least partially mad. 

Sindri gave a apologetic smile. "Keeper Deshanna, it was the only thing we could've done at the time. By the time we would have made it back to camp-"

"Sindri." Pucka cut in before Deshanna could rip into her first. "Keeper, we apologize. We could've found a way to delay the shems and made our way back, but there was an opening and we agreed it was worth the risk to attack."

Deshanna massaged her forehead, her gaze falling on Gwyn who was biting his lip, ears practically drooping. "And you, Gwynllian? What do you have to say."

He froze, before glancing at the others. To her surprise, he then squared his shoulders and met Deshanna's eyes. "Pucka is right, Keeper. Sindri noticed the templars had lirium in the cart. She knew if struck with a certain combination of spells, she could get the lirium to well... explode. Like it did." 

That had certainly lit up the evening sky, Deshanna thought. 

"They would've left the cart behind had they come to attack us, and we wouldn't have had time to gather the hunters since we knew they would be out later this evening tracking the halla herd they found. So..." here he trailed off, losing steam, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

"So you three decided to explode the cart and take on not one, not two, but ten Templars, trained hound dogs of the chantry."

Dead silence from the three.

"It was a sound strategy." Pucka said. "The explosion knocked out three, put off balance the others and caused confusion. Gwyn, me and Sindri were able to take out another three before they got their footing."

"Which left four highly trained and pissed off Templars."

"We heard them," Pucka snapped. "They were after our mages, it's why they took the route they did. They would've taken Aoife." Pucka scrunched their nose, anger simmering down into youthful stubborn annoyance. "Besides, we are fine."

"Oh, so you're fine, Da'len." Her eyes narrowed at the bandages all across Pucka's face, neck, and body. Their armor and shield had stopped the worst of it, but they had also had to bandage and stitch Pucka's side where a Templar blade had managed to slip through. Gwyn as a archer received the least damage, a little burn on his ear where a spell of Sindri's had bounced off the Templar's abilities, taking some hair along with it. Sindri... well, she wasn't going to lose her looks, but of course the templars had caught the scent of the mage first, and with four of them Pucka was only able to hold so many attacks back. Thick bandages were layered on the left side of Sindri's face, where a templar had cut deep. The wound was another that had needed stitching, and it would scar.

After she assessed all them, she landed once again on Pucka. "I need to be clear. It is a miracle you three are not dead." Sindri was unwise enough to start to open her mouth to argue, but Pucka was wise enough to lightly bang their elbow against hers. Sindri's mouth snapped shut. "It is a miracle that you were able to defeat them."

She fell silent, before letting out a deep sigh. "And it is a miracle for not just you, but us all."

The three jolted in surprise.

"We are blessed you did not die, for to lose our bravest youth in such a way truly would have been a loss we could not have recovered from. Your action protected us, and those among us with the gift of magic."

She sighed. "So, get out. Rest. Shoo. And don't do it again."

There was a moment of stillness before the three, stiffly and painfully, rose to leave. "Thank you, Keeper." Pucka dipped into a bow for a moment, before turning around. As Sindri started to open the flap trying to usher them out, Deshanna spoke. 

"And you three," they all froze, turning around to eye her with trepidition. "Since I can't trust you all not to gather even more scars to make tattooing the vallaslin even more difficult, once you have healed you need to start preparing yourselves to receive it."

It took a moment for what she was saying to sink in, all three lighting up as they realized they would be getting their mark of adulthood a year before most would begin to qualify. Gwyn started opening his mouth, probably to thank her, but she flapped her hand in his direction. "Now, shoo, shoo. The quicker you heal the quicker we can figure out what your symbols will be. And besides all that, we will be packing up and moving tomorrow before the chantry can figure out what happened to their dogs."

They quickly ducked out the door, as soon as the flap closing Deshanna could hear excited whispering between them. 

Normally she would have come down harder on those three, and would never think of rewarding it with the acceptance into adulthood, but.

She and the couple of hunters who had stayed home that day had ran to the sight of the lights lighting up the sky, knowing their three young hunters had been in that direction. By the time they made it to the scene...

Deshanna ran a hand across her forehead. Pucka always seemed too steady, too sensible, too ordinary to be one to get caught up in great things, despite what Deshanna knew the spirits had said. It had been an easy thing, putting it aside as a bit of a 'one day' or 'maybe' story. After all, such whispers were never set in stone. Simply... probabilities.

But to see Pucka standing there, protecting the other two, panting with blood running down their face. The shield was held high as the last templar was torn between trying to beat the three elves and try to regain his comrade's bodies, or to run.

For a moment, Deshanna saw the legend of the Emerald Knights living again before her, both knight and knight's companion made one, elf and wolf snarling at the shem dogs who dared try to take their land and people. 

Then one of the hunters buried an arrow in the last Templar's throat, and the others went to make sure that none of the other Templar's would ever get up again. And Deshanna had shook herself to go over and start healing the three ridiculous, insanely brave children. 

It was something to consider. The winds were changing, whispers of a new time ahead. That which was would be turned over, and things would start anew. Perhaps she should start prioritizing those children a bit more. After all, if these were the decisions they got up to now, what would they get themselves into in another decade or two?


End file.
